


Seasons of Love

by Daisyflo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, But Also Resolved, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Feisty Omega, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, House sharing, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No Pregnancy, Omega Rey (Star Wars), POV Ben Solo, Potential second chapter, Slow Burn, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, flirting with sandwiches, soft alpha, sorta friends at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyflo/pseuds/Daisyflo
Summary: After his grandmother's death, Ben discovers he inherited her house.First problem: he isn't the only one.Second problem: his new housemate is an Omega.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 74
Kudos: 901
Collections: Ijustfellintothissendhelp, Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	Seasons of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is my first time writing ABO haha hope it's not too bad!  
> A thousands thanks to HarpiaHarpyja for her help <3

****

**day 3**

_“I, Padme Amidala, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, do hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby revoke any and all other wills and codicils heretofore made by me.”_

The next words barely make it to Ben’s ears. It still feels like a dream; an impossible, endless, bad dream he hasn’t woken up from.

It feels like months since his mother called him in the middle of the afternoon, pain and tears in her voice. ‘ _Your grandmother-_ ’ She hadn’t been able to finish her sentence, but Ben had known immediately. It feels like months, yet it was only three days ago. Three days since he left the meeting room without a single word and jumped into a taxi. Three days since his grandmother, the most important person in the world, died.

He knows, logically, that it isn’t his fault- and yet he can’t stop blaming himself for not calling this last week. Or the one before. In truth, he hasn’t called her in weeks, hasn’t visited in months- shit, maybe even a year. He knows she loved him, and she knew he did too, but he can’t stop thinking about everything he should’ve done differently. It wouldn’t have changed a thing, but he can’t help it. In addition to being the worst son ever, he is now also the worst grandson this world has seen.

His father gives him a brief nod across the room, awkward and sincere. It’s always been like this: rough and hesitant but still very loving in a way only he and Han understand. He nods back before pretending to pay attention to the attorney as she keeps going through his grandmother’s last will and testament, her monotonous voice almost lulling him to sleep, which he could use right now. Still, he makes an effort to remain focused as she goes through the Expense and Taxes part and nominates his mother as the Personal Representative, to nobody’s surprise.

“ _I devise and bequeath my property, both real and personal and wherever situated, as follows_ ,” she continues, sounding almost as bored as he is. “ _Leia Organa, as my daughter, with the following property-_ ”

A minute passes, then another, filled with knowing nods and murmured approvals by all parties mentioned. His mother inherits the family business she was already running anyway and a few items that make her smile and cry at the same time, including some random clothes and jewels. His father is given her handmade chessboard, an old joke between them Ben still doesn’t get, and the funds to keep his own business going, which Ben knows is more than welcome, given the last few years. His uncle, who isn’t here as usual, gets a fair share of the family’s fortune as well, and some other things Ben doesn’t bother to listen to.

He isn’t sure how long they’ve been here, isn’t sure about anything anymore. The attorney’s office is empty and clean in an oppressing way- it looks like a show apartment and smells like bleach, which isn’t helping with the sense of roaming seizing Ben. His chest heaves as he takes a deep breath, desperate for something familiar to graze his nostrils. His mother’s scent immediately comes to him, warm and reassuring as he knows it. It always made up for the hugs he was too proud to ask for, and feels just like one right now. His father’s immediately follows, subdued but just as he remembers. Their combination is unusual, somehow surprising, but reminds him of home. He’s about to take another breath when another scent catches his attention, foreign and surprisingly sweet and enticing for someone as dull as the attorney. It smells like a rainy day in summer, like a fireplace after a storm and like someone had the odd yet wonderful idea to bake apricots with vanilla sugar. It’s slowly invading his lungs, making him forget about the hideous office he’s sitting in, tickling him from the inside, and maybe he should just leave before-

“ _Ben Solo, as my grandson, with the following property: half of my estate and the collection of books that once belonged to his grandfather_.”

Ben looks up at the mention of his name, surprised. He hadn’t expected to get anything, had just shown up for good measure and odd, weak moral support. Everything in him warms as he processes the information, and the hint of a smile starts to curl his lips. The books are like a treasure from his childhood, a memory of someone he never knew, but the house- the house is like open arms welcoming him after a long journey.

It isn’t something he’d planned at all, yet Ben can already picture himself on the porch. He can see himself moving there- because there’s no way he’s selling the only place on earth that made him feel fully at peace. He’ll have to see about work, but it’s not like he’ll miss his current apartment, or his street- they’re a bit too noisy and crowded for him. He won’t miss Hux at all, that’s for sure. His heart is already pounding when he opens his mouth to ask about the other half when the attorney speaks again, voice still dull and tired.

_“And Rey Johnson, as my dear friend, with the following property: the other half of my estate and a monthly payment of her current salary for a year following my departure, effective immediately.”_

His smile disappears before it has even bloomed. His heart starts pounding differently, and his eyes widen as he looks around him, searching for the stranger.

He sees her at Leia’s side, as wide-eyed as he is. There’s a blush reddening her cheeks, which increases when their eyes meet. For a brief second, in an unexplainable way, Ben feels the sorrow in her, the surprise and embarrassment, but it’s nothing compared to his own surprise. Because he’s pretty sure his grandmother would’ve told him about this great friend of hers who seems just a tad younger than him and is very, very beautiful. She gives him a shy, nervous smile, then turns back to the attorney, her thin eyebrows tucked together in disbelief.

**day 5**

“I’m sorry?”

It’s the first time Ben hears her voice, and the second their eyes meet. Except this time, she’s not smiling. She’s actually frowning, like he just said something very insulting.

“I said how much do you want? For your half?”

They’re standing next to their cars, watching the small crowd of grey and black from a distance. Ben never liked funerals, and Rey just seems to share his aversion, leaning back against her car, observing the procession with sorrow in her eyes again. The second she turns to him, Ben knows what a mistake he’s made.

“I’m not selling it,” she replies sharply.

Her accent makes her sound angry- maybe more than she actually is. “You’re not?”

“No,” she confirms. “I love this house.”

“So do I.”

She buries her nose into her beige scarf and looks away as she says, hesitant this time, “Then I guess that makes us housemates.”

**day 9**

It’s barely ten in the morning when Ben drives up the familiar pathway leading to the family house, windows down and radio off. He’d forgotten the particular smell of the woods, the song of the birds and the sound of his tires squeaking above the gravel-covered road. The snow isn’t as high as he remembers it from the many holidays spent here as a child, but it’s enough to hide the tulips that usually frame the way up the house.

His legs are tired from the long ride, sore and begging to be stretched out. His arms haven’t let go of the wheel since he left New York, and with it his empty apartment and the life he’s built for the last decade. He could’ve taken a plane, paid a company to bring his boxes for him, but there’s something authentic about driving there himself. Six hours is a long time, but it’s perfect for his brain to process this whole move. It wasn’t planned at all, wasn’t part of how he envisioned his week, and yet it feels… good. Unexpected, slightly uncomfortable, but good.

He’d been thinking about quitting for a moment, but never found the courage to do so. Well, he hasn’t exactly quit yet, but he’s working on it. Snoke accepted his request to work remotely in exchange for adding a few more cases to his already high pile, but Ben couldn’t care less. He’s never been one to believe in signs or such things, but he’s always trusted his grandmother- and this might be her way of showing him something he’s known for a while. That he could do better. That New York isn’t good for him. That he lost himself on the way there, maybe. That Maine could be the place where he belongs. There has to be a reason for her to have given him the old house.

_Even if he has to share it with a complete stranger._

He’s reminded of that when her bright blue Prius catches his eye, parked next to the tool shed. It’s in the way, hiding the facade of the house he’s been thinking about the whole ride and reminding him that he won’t exactly be alone. He takes a deep breath and parks his car opposite to hers, then proceeds to empty it of the many boxes he put there hours before.

The minute he steps into the house, he’s greeted with the familiarity of it along with a feeling of _intrusion_. He immediately recognizes the unmistakable smell of lavender and vanilla he’s long associated with the prior owner of the house, tangled with something he can’t quite put his finger on and which makes him want to groan. Something he wants to chase and claim at the same time, something that just isn’t right and has to be fixed immediately. It makes him walk faster, his senses on alert in a way he doesn’t like but can’t quite help either. His steps become heavy with frustration, and soon enough he has to remind himself that he can’t allow himself to be this territorial. Not when he is not legally a full owner. Still, the frustration remains as he walks through the corridor, inspecting the walls around him in search of anything unusual.

The same paintings are still hung in the hall, landscapes and faces staring back at him with frozen smiles and gazes following him in his progression.. A few things have changed, for the better: the old clock has been repaired, its pendulum swinging side to side like it used to years ago. He remembers spending afternoons next to it, either staring at its movements or reading, lulled by its rhythmic ticking. He catches sight of a new sofa in the living room, shiny and bright next to the old armchairs. None of them have moved, to his great satisfaction. The wallpaper has been changed in the kitchen, plain yellow replacing the odd chickens that used to freak him out during breakfast.

It all feels familiar and foreign at the same time, but a little more so as he finds himself walking to his room. The guest room, really- but he likes to think of it as still being his, from all the nights he spent there. This house always felt like a second home to him, sometimes even more like his actual one. His parents would easily entrust Padme with their son while traveling, or during school holidays, and soon enough, Ben had been the one asking to be brought here. Weekends, weeknights, summers- this house has seen him grow up as much as he’s seen it grow old. There’s no way his grandmother hasn’t moved his old bed and action figure collection, but were he to search, he’s positive he might find them in the attic, carefully placed in a box.

What he wasn’t expecting, though, was to find _her_ inside.

“Oh- hi! I didn’t know you were moving in today.”

She’s sitting on an armchair, or rather slumped on it: her legs are bent under her thighs, her back leaning against one of the arms as her hands tighten around the book she’s reading. The foreign scent is stronger than ever here, and Ben wonders if she’s been burning some sort of fancy candle while he was driving. It’s not bad at all, even pleasant, but it’s not _familiar_. She seems sincerely surprised to see him, but not bothered. She seems to have accepted this deal way better than he has, which makes him regret the way his next words leave him.

“You can’t take this room.”

Her frown is back on her face instantly. “I obviously can,” she retorts.

“No.” He shakes his head frantically, the gesture shaking the box he’s holding. “No, this is my room.”

She closes her book in a sharp movement then leaves her armchair, her eyes on his as she waves at the walls around them.

“I’ve been sleeping here for a year.”

“And I for thirty-two,” Ben responds.

“I don’t recall seeing you around much.”

Her words have the effect of a cold shower, leaving him mute. _A year_ . It really has been a _year_ \- maybe even more. The guilt is back, seizing him with an iron fist, pulling at his throat like he’s not already feeling bad enough. He can feel the anger starting to boil up but closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He remembers the breathing exercises his grandmother taught him in this very same room, and the way she used to tell him not to abuse his privilege.

_His privilege._

It takes him a moment to find it again, but his voice is still here when he speaks again, low and firm. “ _This is my room. You’re taking the one upstairs.”_

Something happens, seems to wash over her at his words. She looks startled for a moment, like she just froze, then grits her teeth and narrows her eyes. This time, all he can see in her eyes is anger; pure anger, mixed with frustration.

He’d almost forgotten the privilege of being an Alpha, but quickly remembers the disadvantages as she grabs her book, furious and making a point of showing him how much as she walks past him. This scent, again- it hits him like a flowery punch in the face, sweet and warm like a hot chocolate on a winter afternoon. It still feels foreign, but also so, so sharply intriguing. It hits him like a realization he can’t believe he didn’t have earlier, and like the promise of a very, very complicated cohabitation. It hits him the moment she slams the door on him and leaves another puff of her scent behind.

Of course she had to be a fucking Omega.

**day 28**

The first month isn’t the war Ben had been expecting, but still, it seems to be one.

First of all, Rey is a mess. A disrespectful, arrogant mess, who doesn’t mind throwing her shoes on the floor whenever she comes home or leaving a Cheetos bag open on the hand-carved coffee table for days. Second, she keeps such a good distance from him that it’s almost impossible to get even a hint of her scent unless he wakes up early and has breakfast with her, which she seems to avoid at all costs, leaving only a vague memory of her scent behind her.

It’s irrational, how enticing yet discreet it is. He’s usually able to smell Omegas from a few rooms’ radius, but not Rey. Her heavy coat and scarf must’ve concealed it enough at the attorney’s and the funeral -it’s usually enough for most Omegas- but most of them don’t smell _this good_. He blames it on suppressants at first, before he realizes what a blessing they actually are.

Still, Ben feels his frustration growing a little more every day; so when he can’t take it anymore, he opts for the second option and stays up late enough for a chance to catch her when she sneaks into the living room and turns the TV on, which she does around ten p.m. She’s wearing grey leggings and a white sweater severely stained with wet spots where her hair touches it. She looks like she just got out of the shower, and Ben can’t help the way his mind wanders. He knows it’s just the hormones -the _fucking_ hormones- but he hates it anyway.

He can smell her the moment he steps into the room, but not quite well enough. There’s something obstructing her scent, something strong and fresh, like citrus and sandalwood, like-

“Did you use my conditioner?”

She doesn’t seem startled by his presence, which shouldn’t really be a surprise. If he can smell her, she can definitely smell him, too. It makes him wonder what exactly he smells like, and if she too yearns for another rush of it.

“You used my bath bombs,” she replies with a shrug.

Her eyes haven’t even left the screen. She looks just as angry as she did the last time they talked- the time he kicked her out of his old childhood bedroom. Still, there’s the hint of a smirk at the corner of her lips, faint but present. It reminds him of how glittery he was for days after he decided to just use the fucking balls she’d scattered all over _his_ bathroom, and how very wrong he’d been to use them all at once. His skin had never been smoother, but he was grateful to be working from home and not have anyone else see the purple disaster he’d become.

She’d noticed, apparently.

“They were in my bathroom.”

“ _Our_ bathroom,” she corrects.

“Our bathroom that happens to be the one close to my room.”

The TV suddenly stops working, plunging them both in darkness, and it takes Ben a moment to notice the remote in Rey’s hand. The irritation in her voice, on the other hand, is hard to ignore.

“Is this going to be a recurring problem?”

Her accent- oh, he missed her accent. It’s harsh and dry, she doesn’t sound amused at all, and yet Ben revels in every note of it. He has to be feeling very lonely to take relish in a stranger’s anger, especially directed towards him. Especially an _Omega’_ s. He knows he shouldn’t fuel it. Shit, _he_ is the Alpha here- he should be the bigger person and stop the conversation right here, but she’s just _so_ irritating, so _much_. She’s so full of pride, and so very present, awakening his most basic instincts with this feisty urge of hers to drive him crazy, and it works. It works so much he has to clench his fists to fight the need to pin her down on the couch and show her what he’s capable of.

“The bath bombs?” he asks with a frown.

“ _This_. You, acting like I’m some kind of subletter you’re gracefully putting up with. Like you own this place and I’m a parasite.”

He can barely see her face through the darkness, but her tone is enough to raise each hair of his body and trigger his pride. “I _do_ own this place.”

“And so do I.”

The curiosity he’s felt for the last weeks slowly makes way to the same fears that seized him the day he found her in his room. He never heard about her before, and yet his grandmother must have loved her to leave her such a huge share of her estate. She must’ve loved her and trusted her, and it terrifies Ben to think about how they somehow ended up with an equal share. Because maybe this means she loved them equally, and this isn’t something Ben wants to think about- not when the guilt is still there, washing over him every time he thinks about his grandmother; which, lately, seems to be _all the time_ . Not when the only person who ever made him feel loved and accepted just left him without a chance to say goodbye. Not when Rey got to spend these last months with her, be her _dear friend_ when he was the absent grandson.

He hates how jealous he is, hates how she seems to have taken his place in his grandmother’s room, and hates how her presence here is a reminder of it. But most of all, he hates how weak it makes him feel and how miserable he sounds when he speaks again: “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why _you_?”

There’s a long silence following his question, and Ben feels his stomach tighten with anticipation. Not being able to see her expression isn’t helping- he can’t anticipate her response, and worse, can’t anticipate _his_. His heart skips a beat when she speaks again, her voice low and slow like she’s trying hard not to break.

“Listen,” she starts with a sigh, “I’m grieving her just as much as you are. And I’m sorry you don’t like this, but it was Padme’s decision, not mine. If you can’t respect her last-”

“ _Don’t say that.”_

He didn’t mean to say it; not like this. He isn’t even sure when he decided to use his voice- all he knows is that he can, and he just wants her to stop already. She doesn’t seem about to, though: despite the darkness, he manages to catch a glimpse of her eyes, barely lit by the light of the moon. They’re wide and full of frustration again. He’s pretty sure she’s about to explode when she opens her mouth, but the words are surprisingly low again.

“Stop doing this.”

She says it like a warning. A deep, meaningful warning that only increases the irritation growing inside of Ben. He doesn’t care about her scent anymore, her accent, anything- he only cares about _why_ , and _how_ . He hates the way this situation awakens the most basic instincts he’s tried to bury deep inside yet can’t fight. She’s on _his_ territory, claiming _his_ space, _his_ grandmother, making him feel cornered and challenged at the same time. He hates how insecure this makes him feel and how clueless he still is about her. It pushes him not to ask again, too proud to admit his ignorance. Something leaves him instead, somewhere between a lie and an insult.

“You were nothing to her,” he breathes out. “Nobody.”

“And how would you know that? How would you when she hadn’t seen you in a _year_.”

And just like that, Ben feels his heart drop to his knees while his throat tightens with guilt and anger. He hates her- he hates her almost as much as he hates himself. He hates how right she is and how he just can’t admit it. He wants her out of his sight, out of reach and out of smell. He can’t bear to see her another second more with her presence teasing him like a reminder of how right she is, how innocent and intriguing- and so he takes a deep breath, conveying all the authority and determination he can in his next words.

“ _Leave. This. Hou_ -”

“ _No!_ ”

This time, her voice is high enough that Ben jumps a little at the sound of it, stopping mid-command. The closest neighbors are at least ten miles away, but he’s sure they’ve heard her- damn, he’s pretty sure the entire area’s heard her. He’s still frozen in surprise when he feels her moving in front of him, her blurry frame closer than before- he isn’t used to being yelled at, let alone by an Omega. She stops just a foot away from him, close enough that he can hear how shaky her breathing is.

“You don’t get to control people just to get what you want,” she articulates. “This isn’t how it works! This isn’t how _I_ work!”

A puff of her scent tickles him, always so sweet but with a new hint of bitterness. It paralyzes him, hits him like a tornado and makes him want to ask for more before he remembers how he hated her a minute ago. It all becomes a blur when she pokes a finger on his chest.

“Next time you command me, I’m calling the attorney.”

Her warning washes over him as she bursts out of the room, stomping her way up the stairs to the room she never wanted to occupy.

**day 47**

Some days, Ben feels like he's accustomed to life in Maine- others, everything feels out of place and time, and he wonders why he even came here.

It’s very different from New York- the stress that inevitably comes with such a busy city leaves him a little more every day, making way to the peacefulness he hoped to find by moving here. Everything is slower here, more silent and less oppressing. Not everything feels like a matter of life or death, as long as he doesn’t answer Snoke’s calls. Aside from him, the only cloud on the horizon is the silent war he’s fighting with the Omega sharing this house with him.

It’s been two weeks since they talked in the living room, and Rey stills makes a point to trample her way up the stairs every time she comes home. She doesn’t talk, doesn’t acknowledge him- just stomps and disappears upstairs and doesn’t come down until the next morning. On some weekends, she barely even goes downstairs, which makes Ben wonder what on earth she’s up to.

She isn’t the first wannabe bossy Omega Ben has met- he’s had his share with Hux’s daily attempts to try and control him, but getting rid of him was rather easy. Rey… she’s something else. She’s making him forget about her nature and his own, all while reminding him of it in the most unsettling way. He hasn’t met a lot of Omegas, let alone lived with one, but he has a feeling Rey isn’t like others. She’s less… pliant. Less submissive. Somehow, it feels like she’s the one taming him; because as much as he hates to admit it, he does feel guilty for his behavior.

She reminds him of his grandmother, sometimes- stubborn and keen on justice, though she has a different way of showing it. Padme would always face a problem with diplomacy and reason before falling back on a plan B, a quality she passed on to her daughter. But mostly, she reminds him of what his grandmother taught him from a very young age, as soon as he realized the privilege he was born into.

 _We were meant to protect others_ , she’d told him with that soft voice of hers. _Anyone who tells you otherwise isn’t deserving of their abilities._

He can see now what she’d meant by this, and can see how he didn’t keep his promise. The mystery of his grandmother’s last will seems to unfold a little as he remembers his first fight with Rey. Everything seems to fall into place when he remembers her words, furious and defensive. ‘ _I’ve been sleeping here for a year’_. Knowing his grandmother, she’d stuck on this personal mission of hers to do some good in the world and protect those in need. Which means Ben not only inherited his grandmother’s house, but also the duty she’d put upon herself.

_Rey. He’s supposed to take care of her._

Another one of his most basic instincts awakens, his territorial one fading a little. She always sneaks into the kitchen at some point, even if it’s just to go back upstairs right away, but he can’t remember the last time he saw her coming down the stairs. He doesn’t know much about taking care of someone, but he’s pretty sure letting his housemate starve to death isn’t on the list. Begrudgingly, he leaves the armchair he sunk into hours ago and abandons his book on the way out, heading to the kitchen.

Next thing he knows, he’s knocking on Rey’s door, a tray full of sandwiches in his hands.

“Hi,” he mumbles out when she opens a few seconds later. “I… you didn’t eat anything today.”

Her scent comes to him quickly, strong and warm, hard not to get lost in. It takes Ben a few seconds to focus on her face, but only one to notice the freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones. She seems suspicious at first but takes the tray anyway, her frown softer than usual. “Is it poisoned?”

Ben holds back a chuckle at that, unsure whether she’s joking or not. He shakes his head instead and immediately feels the flowery scent grazing his nostrils again when she moves to set the tray somewhere behind her. The territorial instincts he felt on his first days here come rushing back in a whole new way. It makes him feel warm and cold, curious and eager, and makes him blurt out his next words without a second thought.

“Can I come in?”

She considers him for a moment, then shakes her head. “So you can kick me out of this room, too?”

Harsh. But he deserved this.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says in a breath. “For the other day.”

Given the look on her face, this isn’t what Rey had been expecting. She takes a minute to look at him, like she’s trying to judge the sincerity of his apology, then nods briefly before she closes the door, leaving him a little more confused as one last puff of her scent grazes him, teasing and fading almost immediately.

**day 48**

“Thanks.”

Her voice is soft in the early evening, pushing him to look up from the file he’s been working on all day. She’s standing in the doorframe, her bag still on her shoulder. Her coat makes her look smaller than she is, hugging her like a heavy blanket and blocking her scent once again.

“For what?”

She gives him a hesitant look, like she’s still debating her next words, then shrugs. “Yesterday. The sandwiches.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. “Anytime.”

She gives him a nod before she leaves, this time without a sound when she climbs up the stairs to her room.

**day 72**

Though they don’t get into another fight, it seems like Rey isn’t ready to forgive Ben just yet.

She still doesn’t hang out a lot outside her room, but it’s evident she’s not hiding anymore. First of all, Ben does see her in the morning before she leaves, and sometimes even gets a brief ‘hi’ followed by a ‘see you’ as she crosses the door. Secondly, it’s obvious she’s determined to take up as much space as she can, because in just three weeks, the entire fridge is full of various jams and juices, barely leaving any room for his own things. He doesn’t complain, though, and puts his pride aside with his anger. She might be a challenge, but she’s one he can’t refuse.

He’s pretty sure she’s upped her suppressant dosage, though, because he barely gets a hint of her scent. He thinks he does, sometimes, but it fades just as quickly as it appears, leaving him even more frustrated every time.

He hates how much it frustrates him and how much he needs to up his dosage, too, after this realization.

**day 96**

He quits on a Wednesday night after another long, agitated call. There’s a lot of shouting, a few threats from Snoke and, finally, one irrevocable word from Ben before he hangs up. When he does, the room becomes silent again, though filled with tension.

Maine really has grown on him, because he hasn’t been this angry for months. He’d forgotten how loud he could be, how long he could scream and how much he hates this man. It’s not like nobody warned him: his mother did, time and time again, but he never listened; he’d been raised on pride and pressure, after all. Even though the call has ended, he still feels the need to scream.

It’s in moments like this he wishes his grandmother was still here.

“Ben?”

Rey’s voice echoes through the kitchen in a hesitant murmur. She’s got that eternal frown creasing her brow, like she’s surprised by her own presence here. She must’ve heard the screams from the living room- at least that’s where he thought she was. She’s usually eating with the TV on by this time. He must’ve ruined her plans.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, his voice a little hoarse. His hands are still shaking with anger.

“Everything alright?”

He doesn’t reply, because he doesn’t even know what to say. No. Yes. On the one hand, he just put an end to the last thing connecting him to New York. On the other hand, _he just put an end to the last thing connecting him to New York_. He’s relieved just as much as he’s terrified, because for the first time in years, he made this decision all by himself; and it fills him with pride and fear at the same time.

Rey seems to give up on getting any answer from him and busies herself around the kitchen, as silently as always. When she turns back to the table, she hands him a sandwich.

“I owe you three of these,” she reminds him.

She gives him an encouraging smile as she leaves, the room a little lighter behind her.

**day 138**

Winter is finally over when Ben finds a new job. It doesn’t pay as much as Snoke did, but it isn’t such a big issue since he doesn’t pay rent anymore. He still works from home with few calls to make and finally enough time to breathe.

Guilt has almost left him by then, and anger too. It’s like they always say: everything passes eventually. The initial shock has melted away, making way to a nostalgia he can’t quite explain. Some days, the house feels like an anchor, and other times, he can barely stand being here. On these days, though, he always finds a sandwich waiting for him somewhere in the kitchen.

They’re way past the three-sandwich debt, yet he keeps finding them. He isn’t sure what exactly gives him away; maybe it’s his silence, or the fact that he goes for a longer walk than usual. He wonders if she can tell by his scent, but remembers the dose of suppressants he’s on. It’s more than most doctors prescribe, but enough for him not to get directed by this inner voice he tried so long to shush. Most days, he can even interact with Rey and not be reminded of both their natures.

Today is _not_ one of those days.

“You did _what_ now?”

“The neighbor was going to sell him!”

“So _you_ bought it?”

“He was going to be killed!”

“Rey, I’m pretty sure goat meat is illegal.”

This has to be the most ridiculous conversation they’ve ever had: her standing protectively next to the animal she just brought back from her trip to the weekly market and him staring at it like it’s some sort of alien.

“Many people have them around here,” she adds defensively. “They’re great for mowing the lawn, and very intelligent.”

“It sure looks like it.”

Comically, the animal emits a weak bleat, its eyes vaguely staring at some invisible point.

“Stop saying _it_ like it’s an object,” Rey retorts, her eyebrows plucked with irritation. “His name is Ben, and he’s mine- I’m keeping him.”

She looks insanely proud of her joke as she kneels next to the goat and wraps her arms around its neck, hugging it defiantly. On another day, Ben’s pride would’ve taken a hit- but his mind is too busy picking at the other thing she said to feel offended.

_Mine_.

“Uh-” Something washes over him, like it hasn’t in months. “Yeah, um- keep it. Him. Whatever.”

 _Mine. Mine. Mine._ It follows him through the day like an addictive melody, an acid reminder of these stupid hormones trying to dictate his every move. He hates them, hates that despite everything, there’s something in him that can’t help feeling attracted to Rey. He hates the inevitability of it, hates that despite the suppressants, it still leads him around by the nose. He hates that she just feels predisposed to fear him, hates that he doesn’t understand why.

He still hates it when her choice of words haunts him later that night, her voice softer than it actually was.

 _Ben,_ it whispers, _and he’s mine._

He hears it again and again as he comes to the memory of it, his hand under his sheets and her name on his lips.

**day 157**

By the end of the month, Rey has gotten attached to the goat enough to build it a little fence and buy some extra apples to give it as treats.

It’s not like it’s a nuisance or anything; it does mow the lawn as promised, and doesn’t make that much noise. Truth be told, Ben sort of likes it too: it greets him with excited sounds whenever he comes back from a walk and is actually amusing to watch. What bothers him, though, is the satisfaction Rey gets out of her joke. She never misses a chance to reprimand the animal for such futile things as eating the flowers, making a point of adding its name before every scolding. Soon enough, it becomes such a habit that Ben barely flinches when he hears her yell his name in the middle of the night. He’s almost waiting for what will follow, wondering what the goat has done this time. What he _didn’t_ expect was to hear three knocks on his door barely a minute later.

“Rey?” he says, his hand still on the handle as he opens.

She looks alert and jumpy, her eyes too wide for how late it is.

“I’m trying to call the vet.” Her voice comes out shaky and weak. “I’m trying to call, but I don’t have any signal here, I can’t-”

“Slow down,” Ben murmurs, a hand rubbing at his eyes in a vain attempt to chase the sleep out of it. “Why are you calling a vet?”

The answer comes to him a second before Rey replies, impatient. “She hasn’t moved all day,” she says with a strangled voice. “She won’t move, or eat, or- can I use your phone? Please?”

Minutes later, his phone is on her ear as they both wait for the vet to pick up, shivering in the garden.

“Hello?” Rey asks suddenly, making Ben’s heart skip a beat.

She’s never looked so fragile, her fingers gripping the phone with obvious despair as she explains the situation to the remote specialist. A breeze grazes them both, bringing her scent to Ben’s nose like a shameless temptation. It’s stronger than usual- she must’ve forgotten to take her suppressants. It makes him want to come closer and cover her bare legs until her shivers disappear and no breeze reaches her.

“They don’t want to come,” Rey whispers.

Her eyes are fixed on him expectantly, full of horror and fear. She looks absolutely lost when she should be furious, and it only increases Ben’s desire to hold her. “Why?”

“They say it’s too far.” She bites her lip nervously, a hand on the receiver. “They have a car but they-”

She stops mid-sentence, biting her lip even harder. She looks like she’s about to cry, and it’s enough for Ben to close the space between them and take the phone from her hand, furious enough for the two of them.

“Why aren’t you here yet?” he barks into the device.

Some old man jabbers something about area restrictions, but Ben couldn’t care less. All he cares about is Rey and the way she’s looking at him, the distress in her eyes and how much he hates seeing her like that. It makes it easier to find his voice and speak again, authoritative and impatient.

“ _You’re_ _coming here,”_ he orders through gritted teeth _. “Now.”_

This isn’t the type of Alpha his grandmother raised him to be, nor the type he wants to be, but it proves to be effective when the vet finally shows up an hour later to examine the goat. He wishes he could do something, though, when Rey bursts into tears as the vet takes the goat away to run more exams and keep an eye on him for the night. He wishes he could command him to get better and yell something at the vet, anything. He guides Rey back into the house instead, careful not to touch her as they instinctively walk to the living room.

“I’m sure he’ll be ok,” he murmurs as they sink down into the couch. “He’s a tough one.”

“Who’s a tough one?”

She looks puzzled, frowning through tears. For a crazy moment, he wonders if this was all part of a joke meant to make him say it. “The… Ben.”

A second passes, then two, and Rey lets out a chuckle followed by a snort as a few more tears run down her cheeks.

“She- _oh my god_ .” She lets out a sob and she- she _laughs_. She's laughing, tears staining her sweater as she snorts and sniffs. “It’s a she,” she mumbles through tears and giggles. “Her name is Petunia.”

Just for a moment, the tension that seized them seems to dissipate. Just for a moment, they both stare at each other with raised eyebrows, Rey holding back a laugh and Ben blinking with disbelief.

“You’re the worst,” he breathes out with a disapproving shake of his head.

He can’t help the chuckle that leaves him, though; and he’s glad he didn’t when Rey joins him, laughing a little more lightly than before. Before they know it, they’re both giggling nervously on the couch, looking at each other with incredulous smiles.

“Can I…” Rey stops herself mid-sentence, hesitant. “Can you tell me if…”

Her eyes go to the phone in his hand, then back to him.

“It’s staying here,” he assures with a nod as he places his phone on the coffee table.

He’s about to get up and wish her a goodnight when she speaks again. “Can you, too? Stay here?”

Of all the things that happened tonight, this might be the most surprising; yet Ben doesn’t hesitate a second. Something in him roars at the idea that she _wants_ him to stay, that he can somehow give her a sense of protection even just for a few hours. Something else, deeper, revels in the satisfaction of being so close to her for such a long time.

Silent, he leans back into the pillows and closes his eyes, his breathing deep and satisfied. A yawn echoes next to him, followed by a soft ‘ _thank you_ ’ that squeezes his heart in the most delightful way. Seconds later, Rey’s scent grazes him like a caress as her head comes to rest on his shoulder like it’s the most ordinary thing.

**day 158**

Hours later, they both wake up with a start at the sound of his phone vibrating against the table. Rey grabs it first, leaving him with an empty shoulder and an aching back from spending the night on a couch. She hangs up after a series of silent nods and turns back to Ben, a smile on her lips.

“She’s ok,” she whispers in disbelief. “I can go get her.”

Ben immediately sighs with relief. He inevitably grew attached to that goat, too; but what warms his heart right now is to see Rey’s face regaining some color. She’s on her feet within seconds, and within minutes, in her car.

She still hasn’t come back when the sun hits its zenith, so Ben decides to make some sandwiches. When his stomach starts growling and it becomes obvious she won’t be back in time for lunch, he eats alone on the porch, then retreats into the living room. It’s one of those days when the house feels slightly too big for him, too calm for his loud mind and not busy enough. Each nook is dusty with memories; but today, his brain doesn’t mind looking at them, and that’s how he finds himself going through the old photo albums he never dared open.

Most of them are from his childhood, holding memories he almost remembers as he keeps turning the pages. He recognizes his parents despite the youth of their faces, sometimes accompanied by his uncle for big events such as birthdays or Christmas. They’re all laughing at some joke he was too young to remember today, holding each other like the good friends they always were. They appear less and less as the years pass, until he’s the only one in the pictures, smiling at his grandmother through the lens of her camera.

He finally sees her face as he reaches the end of the fifth album. She’s looking at the photographer through hooded eyes, laughing as she holds him in her arms, her hands cupping his face to make him look in the right direction. He can almost feel the softness of it, her palms on his skin. She always had a way of directing him without making it sound like an order; always caring and gentle, guiding him through his hardest struggles like it was the easiest thing on earth.

“I stopped by the store on the way back to get some pizza!”

Rey’s voice startles him as much as it makes his heart spin, both a relief and a surprise. He doesn’t even know how he didn’t hear her coming back: the door creaks loudly enough to wake the entire town whenever they so much as open it, and Rey usually _slams_ it. He’s just processed her return when her scent reaches him, mixed with the smell of melted cheese and country ham.

“Ben?”

A glance towards the window informs him of how late it is: the sun is about to start setting, which means he must’ve spent more time than he thought lost between the pages of his family’s pictures.

“Living room,” he says when he hears her looking for him in the kitchen.

The moment she walks in, her eyes catch sight of the albums surrounding him and go wide. “Oh, sorry- I didn’t know you were-”

“No, come in, I’m ok.”

She doesn’t seem to believe him but steps closer anyway, eyeing the pictures suspiciously. “You could sit on the couch, you know.”

“No,” Ben breathes out as he shakes his head with horror. “Not after the night we just spent. I’m just starting to feel my back again.”

A small laugh crosses her lips, brief but beautiful. She seems to hesitate for a moment, then takes the last steps between them and sits next to him, careful not to crush the albums scattered around him. Their arms brush as she bends above his shoulder to look at the picture he’s holding, and Ben can’t help taking a deep breath when she tilts her head, her hair almost touching his chin. She smells like a flower shop, apricot and vanilla, but more than anything, she smells like danger.

“She was so beautiful,” she murmurs pensively.

Her fingers come to graze the paper, her touch light and thoughtful. Ben realizes this might be the first time she ever saw a picture of his grandmother in her younger years and turns the page to let her get a glimpse on the woman’s life. Her eyes widen at the new photographs, followed by an incredulous smile as they both take in the sight of Padme in a sundress, sitting in a field of what looks like daffodils. Her hair is styled in one of those intricate braids only she knew how to do. His grandfather makes a few appearances, as young and handsome as his grandmother described.

“She always talked about you, you know.”

The words drag Ben away from his thoughts, and he turns to Rey with wide eyes. “Really?”

She nods calmly, like she has no idea how much hope she just gave him. “All the time,” she confirms. “The day we met, she said I reminded her of her grandson. I think it’s because I told a door-to-door sales rep to stop harassing her or I would throw him in the lake with the other ones.”

The sheer thought of it draws a chuckle out of Ben. “Yeah, I can definitely picture that.”

“She might’ve mentioned you were single, too. And that she’d love to have great-grandchildren.”

Ben doesn’t laugh this time. This definitely sounds like something his grandmother would’ve said. It sounds like something his mother would say, too. He’s pretty sure his cheeks are already red when he bites his lips with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs, and he doesn’t really know how to interpret that. All he knows is that he didn’t see her take her suppressants last night, or this morning, and she definitely hasn’t taken them tonight either. Her scent is dizzying, enticing, and making it hard not to dwell on her words. It’s making it hard to keep her talking so he can focus on something, anything.

“How did you meet her?”

“Oh.” She gives him a faint smile that he can’t quite read either. “I was her nurse. She hired me when she got sick last winter and asked me to stay when she got better. She gave me a room and asked me to do some food shopping from time to time, but really, it was more like keeping an eye on her health.” She marks a pause, then looks up at him. "She was the closest thing I ever had to a family. I… I miss her."

She isn’t crying, but Ben recognizes the same tremor in her voice that he discovered last night. This makes sense; explains why his parents seemed to know her and why she met Padme so late. He’d always imagined someone trying to take advantage of her, but all he sees as their eyes meet again is the strong yet lonely woman Rey has been for the past few months. He may have lost his grandmother, but Rey obviously lost someone dear, too. He can see why his grandmother loved her; and if he still had some traces of jealousy left in him, they’re all gone now and replaced by gratitude.

"I'm glad she had you," he whispers.

She gives him a smile again, distant.

"I really have no idea, you know,” she murmurs. “About why she left me this house."

"I think she just loved you very much. She always loved taking care of people."

Though it’s a vague answer, Rey seems to like it and approves with a nod. She looks so innocent, vulnerable, Ben wants to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the sadness threatening to shadow her features. He can’t, of course; just like he can’t protect himself from the nostalgia that comes to him- so he chooses to give her more instead, feed her with the positivity he can find in his own memories. 

“She never yelled at me,” he adds as they look back at the photographs. “She always let me cry and talk. I could always be weak around her.”

Memories of nights spent curled against his grandmother come back to him. She always managed to chase his nightmares away with her soothing voice; and later, guide him with the softness both his mother and father lacked. He doesn’t remember telling anyone about it, but Rey feels like a good confidant. When he looks back at her, she seems calm and… curious.

“How does it feel? Being an Alpha?”

 _Alpha_. It’s the first time he hears it in her mouth; the first time they even talk about it. His heartbeat goes to the roof as he tries to articulate a clear answer and ignore the warmth that washes over him.

“Weird.” He winces, and corrects himself. “Awful. You never know if people respect or fear you.”

“I never feared her,” Rey says with a frown. “She just felt so…”

Her eyes drift back to the last photograph they looked at: one of Padme sitting on her porch, her children on her lap.

“Just,” he finishes for her.

“ _Just_ ,” she echoes. “Yes.”

They remain silent for a moment, the silence only broken by their heavy breathing and the rhythmic ticking of the clock in the corridor.

“Do you?” Ben asks suddenly. “Fear me?”

He isn’t sure whether or not he wants to hear the answer. Rey looks just as surprised as he is, but shakes her head after a moment. “Not you. The power you could have on me… yeah, sometimes.”

She’s referring to what he did months ago, of course she is. She must still be mad at him, and he can’t blame her for that. He’s still mad at himself.

“I’m sorry. I… She taught me better.”

She shushes him with a wave of her hand that immediately makes him feel lighter. “You’re forgiven,” she shrugs. “But you better not do it again.”

“I won’t.”

The promise leaves him in a breath. He can’t believe what’s happening, keeps his voice low just in case it could scare her or break whatever is happening tonight. When his words make their way to Rey, she nods like they just made a pact and turns the page to a new set of pictures where both his uncle and mother greet them with toothless smiles.

“I used to wish I was born an Alpha, you know.”

The thought makes him smile. He can’t begin to imagine the damages an Alpha Rey would make. “Really? It’s not like it’s exactly pleasant.”

She gives him a shrug and turns the page again. “I know. I guess I just wanted to feel safe.”

“I’m sorry you don’t.”

She looks at him and smiles again, frowning lightly. “I do, now.”

**day 159**

The day after, Ben comes back from grocery shopping to a smell he didn’t think he even remembered. It smells like childhood, like winter afternoons and storytime under a tree. He recognizes the smell of Padme’s famous pear pie as he progresses through the house, Rey’s scent mingling with it.

"I found her recipe book," she tells him when he sneaks into the kitchen. "I thought- I wanted to try. It might not be as good though, I'm a terrible cook.”

It's not exactly like the one his grandmother used to do, but it's definitely good. Great, even. She blushes when he tells her, and smiles with that tiny smile that makes him want to go for a run and lock himself in the bathroom at the same time. Something groans deep inside of him; something that has nothing to do with hunger.

**day 185**

Summer arrives faster than Ben thought it would, and with it the usual firework of scents every time he leaves the house. It’s not a bad thing to experience; he just likes the smell of the house better, especially when Rey is around.

There’s nothing left of their past animosity: Rey is barely in her room anymore, and Ben… Ben just goes wherever she is. They started having breakfast together the day he had to wake up early for a Skype conference with someone based in London, and he’s just kept the routine going ever since. When she comes back home, she usually joins him on the porch, most of the time with something to eat. They spend their evenings together talking or watching a show- and when night comes, Ben can’t help thinking about her again and again, until his brain eventually grants him a few hours break. Some nights, when it’s not enough, he indulges himself and lets his most shameful desires guide him. A brush of her arm against his, a laugh barely louder than usual- he doesn’t need much to stagger.

Thankfully, tonight isn’t one of those nights; and when the door opens, he’s only reading an old copy of _The Horse and His Boy_ that once belonged to his grandfather.

“Everything ok?” he asks as Rey walks in.

She never comes in without knocking, let alone so late. His first thought goes to Petunia, but he heard her bleat by his window an hour ago. Frowning, he takes a closer look at Rey and immediately regrets when he realizes how short her pajama top is.

“AC’s broken,” she mumbles. She looks surprised and bothered at the same time, her face shiny with what must be sweat. Her hands pull at her T-shirt to shake it, and Ben has to grit his teeth when her scent comes to him, warm and strong.

“Shit,” he says, for her and himself too. “I’ll call a technician tomorrow. I think we have some fans somewhere-”

He’s putting his book on the nightstand when she starts pacing around, her breath coming in heavy shudders.

"I needed this room, you know," she says impatiently. It’s somewhere between a reproach and a complaint, and Ben feels confused when he realizes what she’s talking about. First, because he thought they’d put this behind them; and second, because he can’t see why she would come to him in the middle of the night to tell him that. But her choice of words- his mind focuses on it for some reason.

"You _needed_ it?"

She nods, swinging the messy bun at the top of her head. "It's way too hot up there. I can't- I hate it."

Everything from the way she talks and walk is a confusing mess, but she looks the most confused of them both, and it kills him to see her like that. He’s not awake enough to think as fast as she is right now, but an idea blooms in his mind after a minute of watching her pacing back and forth with her scent invading the space. "You can have it. If you want."

Something lightens in her eyes, but she shakes her head. “No, it’s yours.”

“I can go upstairs.”

He’s already leaving his bed when she shakes her head more firmly with panic in her eyes. "No. It's ridiculous, I'll just... I'll just..."

"I'll go upstairs,” he repeats, this time as a statement. The covers pool around him as he leaves his bed. He’s both glad and embarrassed that he didn’t keep a shirt on, but Rey doesn’t seem to notice as he gets to his feet. He thinks she’s accepted his offer when her hand closes around his arm as he reaches the door.

"Ben, please- stay here."

Her clammy palm feels warm against his skin. He doesn’t know if it’s her touch or the way she asks; but for the first time, it feels like he’s the one being commanded. He can’t feel it in him to refuse, because how could he? She said she felt safe here, and he feels way too responsible to let her down.

He doesn’t even argue, doesn’t think about all the reasons that would make it wrong, because he’s too busy thinking about how right it sounds. Wordlessly, he walks her to his bed and helps her settle down above the blanket. It’s hard not to think about how his sheets will smell of her, and harder not to climb in and lie down with her. He’s already amazed at how he managed to control himself and terrified by the prospect of having to sleep in the same room when her scent has already filled the entire room.

When she closes her eyes, he goes to the window and opens it before he sinks down into the armchair. When his back hits the cushion, he takes a deep breath, counting on his suppressants to not let his body surrender to the dizzying scent surrounding him. Soon enough, Rey’s breathing falls into a peaceful rhythm, appeasing his instinct enough to let him close his eyes in turn as a cold breeze mingles with the air of his room.

**day 186**

When the sun pierces through the curtains, Ben’s eyes immediately drift to the bed: empty.

Getting up from the armchair is even more painful than being in it. His back hurts, his arms are sore and his legs a bit too weak, but he chooses to ignore them and goes to his bed anyway, his senses on alert. The sheets are stained with something that looks like sweat, but it's hard to tell- her scent is everywhere, blurring his thoughts like a thick curtain. Something inside him, deep inside of him, tells him that it's something else entirely. Something that tickles him from inside, and makes him wonder if the AC broke down here, too, because _god_ he didn’t remember summers being so hot here.

She must’ve gone back to her room- maybe to get dressed, or have a shower. Maybe the AC came back on sometime during the night, or maybe she felt better and decided to finish her night upstairs. _Or maybe she didn’t, and is just as miserable as she was when she came to him._ That last thought quickens Ben’s heartbeat, and guides him out of his room as soon as his body responds. Rey would definitely be the type to lock herself and avoid being seen sick.

Or- _no_.

This can’t be- but her scent does feel stronger as he climbs up the stairs leading to her room. It’s grows even more intense as Ben strides to her door and creaks it open after a brief knock, weary and eager. “Rey?”

He’s immediately hit by what feels like a year’s worth of her scent wrapping around him like a sweet trap. It’s intoxicating, dangerously enticing, and he just wants _more_. It pulls him by the gut until he’s inside, inundated with it. The window’s open, offering a semblance of fresh air, but the room isn’t any less hot. He’s about to look for the AC’s remote when his eyes linger on Rey’s bed, and just like that, his heart seems to stop.

She’s curled up on herself, stripped down to nothing but a pair of cotton underwear that looks glued to her skin. She’s shivering- no, _shuddering_ , and barely seems to realize Ben’s here until he steps closer and calls her name again, sensing the panic in her.

"I don't- It never happens. It never-"

She lets out a groan and rolls her eyes behind her head. Her face is shining with sweat, her entire body covered with goosebumps. She looks like she’s about to mutate into something else, like something has taken hold of her- and given the way her thighs are squeezed together, something is controlling her. Something slowly invading Ben, too, and teasing him just as much as her scent starts to make it hard for him to breathe.

"Aren’t you on suppressants?" he manages to ask.

She shakes her head, her eyes still shut. "I ran out of them- I forgot to-"

The next word dies on her lips as she takes a long, deep breath. Order- she forgot to order. He could see why: the signal is absolutely shitty here, and the next pharmacy is at least an hour away from them. She’s usually absent from seven in the morning to late in the afternoon, which obviously doesn’t leave a lot of room to think about anything else than eat and sleep, and truth be told, they’ve both been pretty distracted lately.

“Tell me which type,” Ben offers, his eyes fixed on her. “I’ll order them. They should be here in a day or two. We’re gonna make you a cold bath and-”

She shakes her head firmly, sending another puff of her scent his way. He can’t spend another minute in this room- he can’t stay immersed in her space any longer or he’ll surrender to his thoughts and throw himself on top of her in a matter of seconds, but he can’t find it in himself to leave her here either. It takes him a great amount of self-control to stay calm as he slips an arm behind her neck, dragging her to him. She only curls up harder, her legs and arm hiding most of her skin.

"Rey, let me" — another trail of shivers run down her body — "you need fresh air."

Her eyes open to look at him, hesitant and thoughtful. She stares at him for a few more seconds until, finally, she gives him a faint nod and relaxes a little. She looks almost sick, frantic; he hates how much she seems to be suffering, hates how we can’t really help. His arm glides to her bare back as the other hooks under her knees and he scoops her up with a grunt. She weighs nothing, but her skin- it’s boiling against his as he holds her close to his chest. Her legs tighten above his arm, and he catches sight of her hardened nipples as she nuzzles her nose into his neck, breathing deeply with even more shivers running across her body.

"Thank you."

Her words hit him, tickle him. They make it hard not to look down at her as he goes back downstairs and takes her back to his room. His jaw hurts as he lays her down on his bed and lets go of her god knows how. He’s almost out of her grasp when her shaky, wet hand closes around his wrist, keeping him closer than he should be. “Ben, please-”

He’s dreamed about this- dreamed about her saying his name again and again, touching him. "Rey…"

" _Please_."

It's too good to be true, and _shit_ , her scent, it's stronger than it’s ever been, strong enough to make him abandon the line he’d mentally drawn and cross it with despair. He lets her pull him back to her until he’s above her, their bodies barely touching yet. When they do, it’s like a firework has just exploded between them. He’s barely holding back from crushing her when her hands run down his shoulders to his stomach and stop on his abdomen. She’s breathing hard, looking at him with a silent pleading in her eyes, and it’s his skin that gets covered with shivers as her fingers start tracing invisible lines on it. “ _Ben_ -”

Her voice- it’s enough to make him lose himself. Just a name, _his_ name, and he’s burying his face in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply until his lungs are filled with nothing but her. He wants, he _needs_ to take as much as he can before she evaporates, because there’s no way this fantasy of his is going to last any longer.

“I can do it,” he mumbles against her skin. “I will- just tell me what to do- I will.”

He can’t remember the last time someone’s scent drove him this crazy; he’s not even sure it ever happened. She’s making a mess of him, she’s turning him into a senseless thing with only one purpose: being the Alpha she needs him to be right now, giving her what she needs, what they _both_ need, because she’s _his_ , his and no one else’s.

“You know what.”

“Say it. _Rey, say it.”_

She lets out a little moan as he takes another breath, his nose grazing the gland behind her ear. “Anything,” she whispers. “Everything.”

He isn’t sure when his hand started tracing the curve of her hips, or how his lips ended up kissing the sensitive spot in her neck. All he knows is that she wants _everything_ , and that’s exactly what he intends to give her.

Getting her out of her underwear isn’t easy with her refusing to let go of him, but he manages to get them off and get rid of his too before he settles back above her, bare and panting already. He’s not even fully there yet, but she’s already wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her until their chests melt into each other. Her thighs are wet and slippery against his skin, and her- _god_ , he can smell how ready she is for him. His fingers go down between her thighs to brush her folds, feel her out, only to come back soaked with her slick. Licking it off his fingers is incredibly tempting, but the squeeze of her thighs around him tells him she won’t tolerate waiting any longer. When he looks down at her, though, her eyes are wide and eager, waiting for his next move. His name crosses her lips once again, barely muffled by her impatient groan. She shudders again when he hoists himself on his forearms, her hands tightening the grip they have on his shoulders as his cock grazes her entrance then pushes into her with disconcerting ease.

The sigh that leaves her is just as rewarding as the feeling of satisfaction that washes over him. She feels like she was made for him, fitting just right, taking him with faint little moans as he pushes a little deeper until he reaches the limit. Her voice is nothing but a train of incoherent whispers as wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding onto him, a series of _Ben, Ben, Ben_ , falling from her lips as she arches into him, following his movements; and somewhere, between all her pleadings, an _Alpha_ that makes him want to groan with pride.

“Shh,” he murmurs into her skin. “I got you.”

It must’ve been what she wanted to hear, because next thing he knows, she’s burying her face in the crook of his neck, her voice low and raspy when she speaks again. “Ben- _knot me_.”

She’s his, she’s here and she’s asking him to- the world could be collapsing outside, he wouldn’t care. The only thing that counts is Rey, and what she wants, and he’s just lucky enough that they both want the exact same thing. She’s almost begging him, digging her heels in his thighs; and so he keeps thrusting, and thrusting, until he feels her walls clenching around him, his knot swelling deep inside her and his name tumbling from her lips in soft little moans. They come together with his bed creaking under them, threatening to break as he keeps working her through her orgasm and his.

Their chests heave in unison as they both regain control over their breathing. They stare at each other for a moment before their lips struggle to find each other. It’s a messy kiss, hasty and eager for more. It ends before it even started as they both pull away to throw their face into the other’s neck, rubbing their noses on each other’s glands like their lives depend on it; and maybe they do.

**day 187**

Her nails dig into his back as he abandons her neck in favor of her cleavage, licking a stripe of sweat on his way down. She tastes like apricot and salt, with a touch of something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Ben, your hand-”

His fingers keep grazing the edge of her folds as they progress down her entrance.

“ _Ben_ -”

A smile curls his lips as he plunges a finger inside her. She lets out a loud moan when the second follows, and sighs when his free arm wraps around her, guiding her above him until she’s straddling him.

“How does it feel?”

She’s already rocking above him, covering his hand with slick. “Good, but-” she murmurs, her eyes shut hard. “I’d rather feel you come inside me, Alpha.”

She’s on her back within seconds, her hands pinned above her head by one of his as she takes him inch by inch.

**day 188**

He kisses the sweat off her forehead as soon as his knot expands within her. Her eyes are still closed, her lips parted from the little gasps that left her seconds ago. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll cook something when I can move.”

She shakes her head hastily like it’s the worst idea he’s ever had. “No, stay.” She kisses his cheek, then his jaw. “Stay with me. Don’t go.”

Ben nods, immediately outraged by his own words. She needs him here- and as long as she does, he’s not going anywhere.

**day 189**

“Rey-”

“Keep going. I can- keep doing it.”

Her back arches into him as he thrusts harder, his hands on her hips. His mouth closes around the gland behind her ear, wet and hungry. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs into her neck. “You’re-”

 _Mine_ , his mind screams as he plunges inside her, stretching her with greater ease than the first day. It’s probably the third time today, and she can’t seem to get enough of him. He can’t get enough either; can’t get enough of her shuddered breath every time she comes around him, trembling and asking for more.

His hand trails down her ribs to her clit in a brief movement that draws another sigh out of her.

**day 190**

He comes with her hair on his face, blinding him with a scent he wouldn’t mind choking on. Her fists clench around his hair seconds later, pulling at it lightly. Her thighs tremble around his waist until she’s rendered a panting mess. She stops rocking her hips above him seconds later, and leans down to rest her head on his shoulder.

“I think it’s… I feel better,” she whispers.

His hands come up to caress her back, detangling her hair. “Good,” he murmurs.

**day 192**

"Again?"

Ben knows the answer as soon as he looks up from the book he’s reading. The last days had been less… eager, less hasty. He’d felt Rey going back to normal, slowly drifting away from the state of frustration she’d been in for the past weeks. And as happy as he is to see her finally more composed, he can’t help the little twist his heart makes at the realization of what it means. He knew the moment would come for her to thank him before politely pushing him away. He’s lucky enough that it happened at all; yet he can’t keep himself from mourning what they shared the past days.

Rey doesn’t say anything. She’s wearing a large T-shirt scarcely stained by her wait hair, covering her from cleavage to mid-thighs. Her eyes are plunged into his as she walks toward him, a curious frown on her face. She’s looking at him like she’s trying to decide what to say, what to do, and Ben’s about to preempt her statement when she takes the book from his hands and throws it on his mattress to settle on his lap.

It should be nothing, given everything they did the past few days- yet Ben finds himself blushing like a teenager as her legs sink in the mattress on either side of him. His eyes land on her clothes, and he remembers the way her hips moved as she rode him two days ago. He remembers her nails digging into the skin of his back, the sweat dripping from her brow and the urgency in her movements. It's nothing like the hesitancy she's showing right now as her hands slowly come up to cup his cheeks, warm but no longer clammy.

She studies him for a moment and, without warning, leans down to press her lips against his. She pulls away immediately only to do it again, this time longer and more intensely.

Her kiss is soft, careful, far from the hastiness she showed this last week. It’s like she’s testing something, trying to find something on his lips, and Ben understands what she’s doing the moment their mouths part. She’s not in heat anymore. She’s back to her normal self, and she’s trying to find some logic in what they did. And she's going to be disappointed when she feels nothing now that the hormones have vanished.

Except when their eyes meet again, she's smiling. A radiant, beaming smile only equaled by this dizzying scent of hers, softer but still following her like an aura and wrapping around him as she runs a finger down his cheek.

"Yes," she murmurs. And before Ben can ask, her lips are on his again, devouring him with a new fervor he hadn’t tasted yet.


End file.
